Estronomicon Sketchbook 2009

N.W. DAVIES Social Services.

“Is there anybody I could call? Any family or friends who should know where you are?”

The old man shook his head, eyes glistening with the threat of tears as he tried to remember, tried to understand.

“I wasn’t always alone. Once there were others to share the burden, the responsibility. But they grew old and died. Now there is only me.”

He looked up at the young stranger in front of him, the man who exuded pity and concern. Every instinct screamed that this man’s ignorance was dangerous, but he had no idea why. He had lost trust in his instincts, his feelings, unable to understand them, unable to remember where they came from. Instead he looked at his coat, his suit, his shoes, finding it less upsetting to concentrate on the tangible here and now.

“I don’t remember the last time I changed my clothes. I seem to have always worn these.” A frustratingly vague memory of finer garments, of colourful robes and fine silks spiralled across his thoughts but was gone before he could focus.

Warren sniffed again, wincing at the unpleasant, unwashed odour hanging almost visibly around the old man. He shook his head sadly. It was tragic see someone this confused, this alone. He reached down and once again took the old man’s elbow gently in his hand, urging him to stand, to come with him.

The old man resisted the pulling hand for a moment and then wondered why. Perhaps the stranger was right? He was cold, had long ago forgotten what it felt like to be well fed or to sleep in a comfortable bed, and what was the reason for wandering up and down the cemetery railings anyway?

Damned if he could remember.

The old man felt a momentary panic, which folded into puzzled concern and, finally, confused acceptance. Somewhere there was a reason for the things he had done, but they no longer seemed important. At least, not important enough to bother remembering.

On Tuesday evening, Warren stopped by the hospital to visit the old man. He was suffering from malnutrition, exposure and severe amnesia. The doctors were keeping him in for observation while Social Services attempted to track down his family.

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